


Rejects Like Us

by CharlesFergalPanner



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Middle School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-16 21:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2284404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlesFergalPanner/pseuds/CharlesFergalPanner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has problems. A lot of problems. One day, he stumbles into Sherlock. Curious about this character, he befriends them. This leads to troubling roads for all characters, but none more than John, who originally thought Sherlock was a girl. Trigger warning a a few chapters. They will be marked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My First Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. First ever fan fiction ever, so please help me along with suggestions and reviews. TRIGGER WARNING IN THIS CHAPTER FOR MENTIONS OF SELF HARM AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS/ACTIONS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, BUT PLEASE BE SAFE. YOU CAN MESSAGE ME AND I CAN SEND YOU A SUMMARY OF WHAT HAPPENED IF YOU'D RATHER. Thanks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self-harm and suicide PASSIONATELY spoken about in beginning. Email me if you would rather not read. I can send you a not as emotional version!! Be safe, you are lovely!!

**_John's POV_ **

I feel like my body has shut down. My mind keeps hiding its thoughts, my heart keeps hiding its feelings, my eyes keep altering my view, and my lungs continue concealing each breath. I roll to my side, revealing my bedroom to my wary soul. _Yet another attempt failed._ I groan to myself as I go to sit hunched over, hearing each bone in my body snap into place as I do so. Glancing at the alarm clock, I note the time to be 5.23 in the morning. _'Why bother going back to sleep_?' I ask myself. _'I have to be up in an hour anyway.'_ I stand in the darkness of my room, desiring it to swallow me once and for all. Climbing over the sheets I have tossed on the floor from the previous nightmare, I reach my small, overly-bright restroom. The lights sting my eyes, so I flinch from their rays, stumbling over my laundry basket and into the wall. I check around to see if anyone had witnessed the embarrassment that is me. _You idiot, of course no one saw you._ _All the normal people are sleeping right now._

Sometimes I wish I would stop breathing. But alas, every attempt fails. The rope snaps. The blade breaks. My parents find me. _Why do I have to be here? Why do I have to keep trying if I don't want to anymore? How is suicide selfish? Other people want me to stay, completely disregarding how I feel, yet I'm the selfish one._ I shove the thoughts from my head. It's better not to feel. Feelings mean pain, and Lord knows I have enough of that.

I disrobe, looking at my bare form in the mirror briefly before stepping into the burning shower. I have the water as hot as it will go, and I sit on the floor, letting the piercing drops cut through my already open wounds in attempt to wash each and every scar away. By the time I get out, the water has been cold for a while. I wrap a towel around my waist and drag my legs out of the lit room and into the dark one. Some light is leaking though the blinds, but not much. I dry myself off in a much to thorough way and dress in my clothing for school. I have my red and navy plaid blouse with my navy blue sweater vest. _But where are my trousers?_ Not able to find the jeans I was looking for, I settle for a pair of casual looking khakis. I then look to the clock for the first time since my shower and realise it is now 7.49. _"Shit!"_ I think to myself " _I'm going to be late!"_ I flatten my hair with one hand as I attempt slipping my red converse on with the other, all while trying to walk. What the multitasking manages to do is force me from my bent over, strange position, to a face-planting one on the floor. I actually fell though my half-opened bedroom door and into the hall where my mum stood, giving me a look of bazaar questioning. We made eye contact for a second before I rolled into a sitting position, consciously with my face turned from hers, fixed my shoes, and stood up. Grabbing my book bag, I ran out of the house without saying a word.

I ran to my bus stop, only to see the bus pulling away. I sigh to myself and decide to walk to school instead. _'Not like I have much of a choice.'_ Putting my ear buds in, I press play on my iPhone and start the trek to hell. The lyrics sounding through my cluttered head seem to fit my mood perfectly. The song playing is I'm Not Okay by My Chemical Romance. "Oh well," I breath to myself, "at least I have 7 hours of learning ahead of me." My sarcasm is practically visible as I spew the words from my tongue and into the atmosphere. I reach school and the typical taunts begin. I hear a few of them over slight breaks in my music. They include the words "faggot", "gay lord", and "nerd". Honestly, if you want to bully me, at least try to be a bit creative. Hearing the same cliches over and over is quite tedious, to be truthful, though I don't mind being teased and taunted. However, there is one boy that gets on my nerves. That boy is Greg Lestrade. He isn't even mean, but rather overly kind. So much so, that he seems to be mocking you. I admit, I do have a bit of a trust issue, but tell me it's not suspicious when you are obviously hated at school, and a perfectly okay, sport-playing guy walks up to you and starts being kind. I would rather deal with being called faggot and shoved in my locker than have to juggle that with someone deciding to be nice. Besides, I learned my lesson last time someone was kind to me. Jim Moriarty was kind. He strung me along as his friend, then humiliated me in front of the whole school. He switched my clothing when I was in phys ed, so when I came back all sweaty from a rugby match, I had nothing to wear but a pair of pink booty shorts that said 'bootylicious' on the back and a skin-tight white v-neck tee-shirt. That's why all this faggot stuff comes up to this day, an entire 2 years later.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the school bell. _At least I won't be late on the first day back._ Until, as I should have guessed, Anderson and Moriarty lock me in my locker, leaving me with a high five and a douche bag sounding laugh. _Oh well, at least it's my locker this time, and not that weird Mycroft guy's that was three grades ahead of me._ I sigh for what seems like the twelfth time today and slide down the narrow walls of my newly found, yet depressingly familiar prison. When I reach the ground I mumble "This is going to be a long term." Until I hear someone just outside my locker door. They lean against it and ask if someone is in here. I jump up in excitement, hitting my head on the forgotten low roof atop of me. "Y-Yes! Please help me out! The code is 36-22-28!" I then hear the lock twisting and soon open. I clumsily fall out, accidentally tackling the person that helped me escape. I landed with my face on their stomach. I turned so red that the colour itself couldn't compare to my flesh. The kind person slid out from under me and stood up gracefully, reaching out a hand to help me up. I was about shoulder hight to them. They wore black skinny jeans with a baggy, dark purple jumper. They were pale with cheek bones that could cut something and a raven coloured mop of thick, curly hair. A few pieces fell onto their face and over the electric storm clouds of eyes that burned a hole through mine. This kid appeared to be no older than 11, yet they were oddly tall and lean. Realising I was staring, I broke the silence. "I-I-I'm John. John Watson. Thanks for helping me mate." I reached out my hand, but this figure merely looked at it before continuing with a smirk and the words,

"Hello. I am Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes." They seemed to be mocking me, but in a playful way. Their voice is neither masculine nor feminine, but that's probably because they were only 11, 2 years younger than me. At least, I think they are. I suddenly notice that I have no clue if this is a boy or a girl I'm talking to. I give them a quick look-over again, searching for any sign of gender, but I found none. Then I remember they told me their name. _Sherlock. What an unusual name._ Then an idea hits me.

"Sherlock? Isn't that a girl's name?" I cheekily smile, hoping they don't take it in the wrong way.

"Depends on your opinion." They reply. _Damn it. Still clueless. Whatever, I guess it doesn't matter._

"So where are you off to, Sherlock?" I ask, trying to sound nonchalant. They reply,

"Advanced Maths. How about you?" _Okay, they're clever. At least we have that in common._

"With Mr. Messer?" Sherlock looks shocked but replies with a nod. "That's where I'm heading right now. Want to walk there together, seeing as we're both officially late?" I suggest, trying not to sound too needy. I'm just intrigued by this being. Curious, if you will, to learn more about them and what made their eyes turn such a hardened colour. They don't reply, but we continue walking together anyway, so I guess this person can tolerate my presence. When we reach the classroom, we can luckily sneak to our seats without the instructor noticing. We sit right next to each other in the back corner with an empty table by us in all directions. _Good, nobody to disturb our future conversations._ I glance at Sherlock, who seems to be texting, and think _maybe this year won't be so bad after all._ Perhaps I thought it too loudly because as soon as the thought crossed my mind, Sherlock gave me a strange look, almost like I was eating a kitten. After a while though, they turned their attention back to texting and I turned my attention to figuring out how to think in a much quieter fashion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Kudos and comments always appreciated!! Me courage, it gives...
> 
> I just spoke like Yoda, so I will just...let myself out...
> 
> ~ CharlieWhatsHisFace


	2. Getting to Know You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Thanks for reading. This chapter has ever so mild bullying and and mentions of self harm. Then we have Sherlock being Sherlock and John loving every second of it. Kind of a cute chapter really. 
> 
> By the way, I don't own Sherlock, any of the characters, or any quotes I use. All rights go to BBC Sherlock

**_JOHN'S POV_ **

Class droned on and on for centuries, until the bell called the hour and the students bursted through the much too narrow doors. It was now lunch break. I walked down the hall, twisting and turning until I found my locker once again. I mastered getting my lunch bag out in a total 4 seconds, so as to slim the chances of being trapped again.

I casually floated through the aisles of students. Luckily, nobody seemed to notice me. I was thinking about that Sherlock kid the entire trip to the canteen. I soon spotted my usual table with the maths nerds and sat in silence as they discussed some sort of equation I had no interest in. Truthfully, I was more fond of literature and art than maths. I only sat with these dorks because they were the only people that seemed to tolerate me. _Except Sherlock. Sherlock tolerates me just fine._ That's when I noticed Sherlock sitting alone just a few tables over. I stood quietly and walked over to them. Before I could reach the newly found friend, however, I noticed something that is a clue in my gender investigation. Girls were snickering at Sherlock, and seemed to be talking trash about them. Noting that boys tease boys and girls tease girls, I think I found out which gender Sherlock actually was. Female. _Wow. I've never had a lady friend before. That settles it. I'm going to talk to her. Besides, she is kind of cute. You know, for an eleven year old._

"Hi, Sherlock." I say as I plop down in the seat next to her, pulling out my sandwich, apple, and water. Sherlock only lifts her eyes for a second before mumbling a _hello_ sounding noise. Seeing her immersed in a book, I get curious. "What are you reading?" I ask in a sing-song kind of way. Sherlock rolls her eyes and closes the book.

"I _was_ reading The Hobbit, but now that you're here, I guess I have to stop." she seemed agitated, but in a kind way (if that was even possible). I smile to smash any tension between us. She soon smirks back.

"Now, I've only known you for a couple hours, so if we're going to be friends, I need to know more about you." Sherlock gave me a puzzled look before retorting,

"I don't have _**friends**_ , John." Her face contorting into one of disgust as she spat out the words. Her words said a lot, but I didn't completely believe them.

"Yes you do. Or at least, you would if you didn't shove anyone and everyone away before getting to know them." I smiled sadly. Sherlock was, or appeared to be, impressed with my newly found confidence. Just as I was getting up to walk away, thinking she obviously wanted to be alone, she suddenly grabbed my arm. I turn to see she hasn't looked up from the table. With a distant look in her eyes, she blindly said,

"No, I **don't** have friends. I just have one." Then she dug her eyes deep into mine in the most apologetic way humanly possible. Then she continued, "I think the best way to get to know each other, seeing as we're friends, is a questioning game. I ask one, then you ask one, and so on." I sat back down and smiled with my eyes.

"Okay. You go first then."

"Alright. How old are you?" She placed her hands under her chin in a praying fashion and I blindly answered,

"13. How about you?"

"11" I smirked at my accurate deduction. Then she asked me something I thought I kept well hidden. "How long have you been cutting yourself?" My eyes fell to the depths of hell and my heart sunk to the basement. Her eyes shoved into me in an almost bored way.

"H-how? How did you know?" Sherlock played a bit of a smile before hiding it faster than I hid my wrists.

"Your shirt." She said, like it was obvious.

"My? Shirt? Okay, what?" I was flustered and it was clear in my voice.

"Your shirt. It is long sleeve on a hot summer day in a school with no air conditioning."

"How do you know I don't just like long sleeves?"

"I thought of that, but then I noticed the way you subconsciously trace lines on your wrist. Also, you constantly pull your sleeve down, even though no scars are visible. You're paranoid for someone to see your arm. Your choice of style isn't the most popular, so you probably get bullied. Plus, I found you in your locker earlier, so bullying confirmed. It was simple deduction that you cut yourself." My face fell even further before quickly turning into one of fascination.

"That's a neat trick. Do you think you can teach me?" Sherlock was surprised, like she never received that reaction before, and then replied in the cockiest way,

"Sure. Though I assure you, you will not be nearly as good as I am." She smiled a snarky smile.

"You're on." I said as I accepted the unspoken challenge. Just at that moment of pure friendship between the two of us, Anderson came up behind me and dumped milk down my shirt. I jumped up in a panic before turning to him and punching him square in the jaw so hard it hurt my hand. He fell backwards, and as he was going to stand he said,

"You're going to regret that, faggot." He cocked back his arm before letting it shoot straight into my nose. I felt it bleeding, but it didn't seem broken. Before I could retaliate the action, however, a teacher monitoring the canteen came up and scurried Anderson off. She asked if I wanted to see the nurse, but I said no.

"Pinching the bridge and looking down helps stop the bleeding." Sherlock said. I almost forgot she was there.

"Oh. Thanks." I began doing as she instructed, but it wasn't really working. She gave me an empathetic look before saying,

"Here, let me." Then she put her hand on mine and I could feel sparks. She guided my fingers to the proper spot on my nose and pinched. "Like this." Our faces were a mere few centimetres apart, our foreheads nearly touching. That's when Jim Moriarty came up and shoved my head sideways, successfully parting Sherlock and I. As I was readjusting my position, I saw Jim whisper something in Sherlock's ear.

"What was that?" I ask, sounding clingier than planned.

"Oh, nothing. Don't worry about it." Sherlock replied. I was still curious, but dropped it as it was obvious she wouldn't tell me anything. I piped up,

"Do you want to hang out after school today? We can do whatever you wanted to do." I am hopeful that she'll say yes.

"Umm sure. Why not. Meet me at my brother's locker after the last bell so I can let him know where I'll be at and who I'll be with. It's number 283."

"Okay. See you then." I say, attempting to be cool about it, but probably sounding like a 12 year old fan girl meeting One Direction. I walk off to my next class. Ugg, it's French. I see Sherlock following me. As it turns out, we have the next three classes together. At least I get to see her most of the day. As we did in first hour, we sat together in the far back corner with at least one empty table in each direction. We spoke about Lord Of The Rings, Star Trek, and occasionally, Sherlock brought up quantum physics. Then we had to part for the last period. _At least I get to see her once this is done._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Leave some comments and kudos if you did!! Gives me courage to keep writing. I'll try to update every other day at least. Thanks again for reading. Love you all!!
> 
> \---CharlieWhatsHisFace
> 
> By the way, I made their schedules.
> 
> Sherlock:  
> Advanced Maths  
> Advanced Biology  
> Advanced Geography  
> Advanced Physics  
> Lunch  
> French 1  
> Orchestra  
> Advanced British Literature  
> Physical Education
> 
> John:  
> Advanced Maths  
> Physical Education  
> Geography  
> Biology  
> Lunch  
> French 1  
> Orchestra  
> Advanced British Literature  
> Art


	3. Rugby Match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oi sorry for being late guys. I've been having some issues with my boyfriend (again) and have been a bit too down to write. Here is a super short chapter, but I'll update again later today after Melor (my boyfriend) and I's date today. Hope you like. This one has some lovely kissing in it. OoooOooOOOooo. Interesting in here. No trigger warnings, except the ever so slight mention of abuse.

**_SHERLOCK'S POV_ **

 

 _I hate rugby._ I thought as I sulked on the bench waiting for someone to pick me for their team. As usual, nobody did and I was water boy. That is, until halfway through class when somebody got hurt. _Geoff, I think his name was. That overly chippy boy with the dark hair and light eyes. Abused at home, feels the need to be overly kind so as to avoid rejection. Mum recently left because the abuse became too much. Getting extra beatings as of late, on the verge of breaking because of it. Typical._ Then a loud shout followed by snickering interrupted my stream of conscious.

"OI, I SAID YOU'RE IN, HOLMES!" The instructor repeated in a particularly annoying tone. I stood and looked over both teams quickly. Then the coach answered my unasked question. "Moriarty's team." He said as he pinched the bridge of his beak-like nose, wrinkling his forehead even more so than usual, which seemed like an impossibility.

I walked over to the only person I could tolerate on the team: the captain, Jim Moriarty. He had the same ability I posses. The ability to notice. I was better at it than he was, but it had always been close game when we played deductions in _privet_. You see, he is popular. I used to be, but then I realised exactly how stupid everyone else was and couldn't help but point it out. Now being seen near me is the equivalent to having the black plague. Therefore, we meet in secret late at night. Not even my older brothers know about it.

I stood as far away as possible from the match without my teacher noticing that I wasn't playing. _Moron. Can't even keep track of such a trivial thing as your pathetic job. Oh well. It keeps me from having to participate without affecting my card markings._

After I had been to visit Lucifer and came back to the land of the living, the coach's whistle finally blew and we all went in to shower. I didn't shower, seeing as I didn't sweat for lack of actual physical activity. Also, I wanted to change into my normal clothing as fast as possible so I could meet with Jim before John found Mycroft's locker. I purposely gave him the wrong number so he would be a bit delayed. The reason I committed such a horrid crime? At lunch, Jim whispered to me to meet him behind the tree by the football field right after school. I don't really know why he wanted to see me so soon, but whatever, right? I went to the place Jim told me to meet him, and waited for less than a minute for him to show up. I turned to him and started saying,

"Hi, Jim. Why did you wa--" but I was cut off by a kiss. An actual kiss. On my mouth. With his mouth. And our lips touching. And it was glorious. My first kiss and it was with someone as amazing as James Moriarty. It ended much to soon. He pulled his lips from mine and looked me innocently in the eyes before slamming his lips to mine once again. This time much more demanding and heavy. He twirled his fingers in my hair, pulling my face closer to his. Then I snaked my arms around his waist and finally started kissing him back with just as much fire pouncing from my mouth. Once more, he broke the kiss. Only this time, rather than an innocent look plastered to his beautiful face, he carried one of distortion, malice, and mischief. He spoke two words before prancing away,

"Thought so." _Thought so? What does he mean?_ I thought to myself before I remembered John. I looked to my wrist to learn the time, and gasped at its lying hands. Only it wasn't lying. School ended 15 minutes ago. _That means I was kissing Jim for 15 minutes, almost uninterruptedly_. My skin shivered at the thought of his tongue in my throat for that long. _I should probably try finding John now._ I began running towards the hell some call a place of education. Just as I entered the doors, I crashed into Mycroft.

"Does this belong to you, Sherlock dear?" He said in his overly calm yet obviously annoyed tone as he gestured towards John. _What the hell is going on?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Leave some comments, kudos, or whatever you want. The encouraging and criticisms truly do help!! Thank again, love you all,
> 
> \--CharlieWhatsHisFace


	4. Art Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's point of view of the last chapter, pretty much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late. I've been dealing with some homophobic douche bags lately. Forgive me? Thanks. Hope you enjoy, and be sure to comment, kudos, or bookmark it :3 it helps me want to keep writing.
> 
> Love you all,
> 
> \---CharlieWhatsHisFace

**_JOHN'S POV_**

Art is my favourite class of the day. Not only does it signify the end of my classes, but is also a genuine interest of mine. Today we began drawing our self portraits. I only managed to finish drawing the shape of my head by the end of the period. I was in a daze thinking about what Sherlock and I would do after school. _We could go to the cinema. Or maybe she wants to go to the library. Or maybe just walk around and get to know each other better._ My thoughts were abruptly ended by a spit ball slamming into and successfully sticking on the back of my neck. I angrily whipped it from my neck and to the floor, glaring at Anderson. _If only looks could kill. That jerk would be dead 1,000 times._ Just then, before I got up to punch Anderson in the face for the second time today, the bell called me to the hall to find Sherlock and her brother. _Locker 283, here I come._

I trolled the corridors for seemingly endless time. It had actually been all of 5 minutes. I didn't find the locker by that pass of time, but Jim Moriarty did bump into me, almost shoving me to the ground in the process. I spewed out words before I could stop my tongue.

"Oi, watch it, mate!" And I immediately did a mental face-palm. He turned and glared at me with a look much blacker than I could ever conjure. He looked as if demons would run and hide from the pure hatred tattooed to his black, soulless eyes.

"Look, Watson, I don't have time to deal with you right now." He spat before grabbing my shirt collar and slamming me in the nearest locker left partially open. _The second time locked in a locker on the first day. I'm off to an excellent start this term._ Sadly, it wasn't my locker this time, so I was at the mercy of whoever open the newly shut door. _I wonder what Moriarty was in such a rush for._ Then I heard the dial on the claustrophobic prison I was in, and chocked on my fear. But when the door opened,

"You again?" My voice rose an entire octave as I asked in shock. It was that weird older boy from last year. _Mycroft, I think was his name._

"Ah yes. John, isn't it?" He spoke in a tone that put posh kids to shame.

"Umm, yeah. Sorry man, I was looking for someone and that jerk Moriarty locked me in here. Please don't think I'm stalking you." Red once again creeped to my checks and spread across my face like a skin disease. _How could this be any more embarrassing?_

"I understand." Short pause as he looked me up and down quite quickly. "Who is it you are looking for?" He almost seemed like he already knew.

"Sh-Sher-Sherlock Holmes. Why?" I stuttered.

"I can help you in your search. I know exactly where Sherlock is." The confusion was clear on my face. "Let me clarify. I am Sherlock's older brother, Mycroft Holmes." _Okay, this just got more embarrassing._

"Oh. Umm, sure. I could use some help, I guess." Smiling weakly, Mycroft and I walked down towards the front doors of the school. "So how old are you, Myc?"

"It's Myc ** _roft_** , if you could bare struggling to the end of it. And I am 15 soon to be 16." I nod in a knowing fashion, though I honestly thought him to be much older.

We soon reach the doors, but before I could open them, Sherlock came bursting thorough, successfully knocking me to the floor and colliding with Mycroft.

"Does this belong to you, Sherlock dear?" And he waved his hand to me. Without sparing me a glance, Sherlock and Mycroft looked over each other in the same scanning way as if they where machines or something from a sci-fi programme. Mycroft continued, "How sweet, by the way, that you're growing up. Who was it?" Sherlock, rather than answering the strange question, retorted,

"I could ask you the same. I bet it was that Lestrade boy, wasn't it? The one that was held back? Repeatedly abused at home by the father. Since his mum just left, he would need some compassion. Someone to--" Mycroft cut her off in the coldest voice I have ever heard.

"Sherlock, dear. You and I both know I am not prone to acts of compassion." And with that both of their faces made stone look emotional. I could cut through bone with this tension.

"Well, Mycroft, Sherlock and I are going out together right now if that's okay?" I lost my confidence as my sentence dragged on. Sherlock smiled like a cock and continued for me.

"Yes. John and myself were going to go to the cinema. We will be back to the house at 6.00 this evening."

"6.00? That's a bit late for just seeing a film. Are you sure that's all you two are going to do?" The innuendo was obviously on Mycroft's mouth. Sherlock, undeterred, replied,

"We are going to go on a walk after. Through the park." And before waiting for a reply, she took my hand and we left Mycroft behind. _This is going to be a fun date_. I wasn't entirely sure if that thought was supposed to be sarcastic or not. _Just relax. It will be fantastic. Besides, Sherlock is holding your hand right now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. Did you like the chapter? Be sure to let me know!! The next is coming soon, so stick around to find what happens next. 
> 
> P.S. The next one will be longer.
> 
> Love you all,  
> \---CharlieWhatsHisFace


	5. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> KISSING IN THIS ONE!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so late you guys. My computer wouldn't connect to the Internet so I couldn't upload. Whoops. Hope you enjoy anyway.

**_John's POV_ **

Sherlock is leading us to the cinema. Well, more like dragging me because she is walking so fast. When we go to the room to see the film, I notice that it already began. I am not even aware what we're seeing. Honestly I'm just excited to be in close proximities with Sherlock. I ended up staring at her rather than actually watching the weird chick flick she seemed so invested in. I want to remember every detail of her. Before I knew it, the film was over and she was getting up to leave. It took a minute for me to realise what was happening before I too stood.

"Off to the park then." I said and Sherlock just hummed her yes instead of wasting breath. After about 2 minutes of awkward silence, I suggested something. "Why don't I play some music while we walk? I have my phone with me." Sherlock smirked and, without looking to me, said,

"Sure. Listen to whatever you want I'm not picky." I took out my phone and pressed the shuffle button on my music collection. The song that instantly blared from the tiny boom box was not what I was expecting. I was hoping for something like Good Charlotte's 'I Don't Want To Be In Love'. Instead, 'Don't Call Me Peanut' by Bayside started playing. I was embarrassed at my taste in depressing music. Sherlock, however, was impressed as she finally faced me and spoke,

"You listen to Bayside too? I love them!" The excitement evident on her face.

"Yeah, I really like them. I didn't know anyone else knew of their existence." We both smile and walk in a comforting bubble of bliss as we listen to clinical depression put into song form. I don't think I've ever been happier. _The irony, oh the irony._

We reached the park, but we didn't stop walking. The two of us were having much to fun a time talking to each other about how stupid some people can be and how the world needs to go through a great purification to rid of all the unworthy peasants we are consistently forced to be around. As our laughter began to simmer down from the obvious similarities in humour, Sherlock stopped walking all of the sudden and looked very serious.

"Why are you so sad?" Her expression was unreadable, and mine was hollow.

"What do you mean?" I said with a broken voice and empty soul.

"You're sad. Your eyes are heavy, you self-harm, and your laugh is shallow. Why?" I snorted and turned to walk off.

"I don't need this right now." I was visibly angry. Before I could get away, however, Sherlock grabbed me by the arm the same way she did in lunch earlier.

"John. I'm sorry. Forgive me." My gaze softened.

"Of course, sorry. I just...can we not talk about this? I really...I just can't." Tears were now dwindling in my eyes.

"Whatever you need." It was then that I noticed how close we were standing. She was so innocent looking, and I was about ready to kiss her when her mobile went off. "It's Mycroft. I need to take it, sorry." And with that she grabbed her phone and began a conversation. Neither of us back away though. We just stood as close as we could without touching each other. "Fine, Mycroft. I will be there soon." Slamming her phone into her pocket and scowling at the ground, she mumbled at the pavement. "I have to go do something for my brother."

"Oh okay, that's fine." I was probably desperate looking because her next question baffled me.

"Would you like to come with me?" Her words were asking, but her storm-cloud eyes demanded I say yes.

"Uhh sure. Where are we going?"

"My house. You're staying the night, so call your mum. We need to solve a case for a friend of Mycroft."

"Okay? Who is this friend?" Shocked by the forcefulness in her voice.

"Her name is Molly Hooper. Warning though, she is a bit awkward and flirtatious. Especially with me. Even though I have told her on numerous occasions that I don't date anyone. Not girls, not boys." _Sherlock doesn't date? I have some thinking to do later. For now, Molly Hooper. I think I know who she is. Nerd from biology, and a massive teacher's pet. Maybe I could get her with my sister Harry. They would be cute together._

"Okay. Let's go then."

"My brother is going to pick us up in about 2 minutes right here."

"Ummm, alright. Let's wait here then." And there goes my nervous gerbil laugh. _Fantastic_. Just then, a sleek black car pulled up and both of us got in. Sitting in the backseat facing us was Mycroft.

"Oh Mycroft, you are so predictable." Sherlock teased. Mycroft scanned my figure and looked to Sherlock with his overly posh face before replying,

"Oh I could say the same about you, Sherlock." Their glares were physically exhausting me. I decided to speak up.

"So Molly Hooper. What does she need?" I settled for a safe question and change in topic.

"Someone stole her biology notes and she needs them for revision. We are supposed to find out who took them, and get them back without getting caught." Sherlock replied, obviously trying to suppress excitement.

"Why can't we just tell the head master? I'm sure that would be much easier."

"Because, John, where is the thrill of the chase in that?" Rather than opening my mouth, I just nodded and looked out the window. We were all silent for a 10 minute ride when we reached Sherlock's house. It looked warm and welcoming, the complete opposite of the two Holmes boys. When we walked in, I saw the house was all autumn colours with family portraits scattered about on shelves and walls precariously. None of the portraits seemed up to date though. The one with the youngest image of Sherlock was when she was about 2 and the one she was oldest in was when she was about 5.

I was soon enough dragged up to Sherlock's room. It had black walls with dark wood floors. His wardrobe had several posters on it so it was quite difficult to tell which colour it was. I did notice that she liked the same music as myself, using the wardrobe as reference. On the cabinet by her bed was an alarm clock, a shadeless lamp, and a human skull. _Alrighty then._ Her bed matched the walls. Black sheets with a black frame. _I should stop staring and call my mum now..._

I see Sherlock sitting at a desk I failed to notice earlier with her hands in prayer form and her brow furrowed in deep thought.

"Can I use your mobile, Sherlock? Mine only has 2% battery left." Without moving, she responded,

"Yes, it's in my back pocket." She didn't appear to move still so I asked her,

"Can you get it for me then?"

"No. I'm thinking. Get it yourself." Judging by the fact she had yet to move, I decided to just go in her back pocket and get the phone. _Relax. Sherlock doesn't date, this is totally platonic._ My face was glowing embarrassment as my hand slid over into her jean pocket and grabbed her phone. She somehow still seemed unmoved. _It's like she is on another planet._

I called my mum and told her where I was. She just sighed and said something along the lines of 'be safe'. As I closed the phone and put it on the desk in front of the frozen Sherlock, I heard a knock on the bedroom door. Figuring Sherlock wouldn't get it, I walked over and opened the wooden barrier slowly. It was a figure I didn't recognise. He looked older than Mycroft, but not by much. His smile was kind and his eyes a warm chestnut colour.

"Hi. I'm Sherrinford, Sherlock's oldest brother. Is the little genius thinking again?"

"Yeah. I'm John by the way. John Watson." I extended my hand and he shook it with a firm grasp. _It's weird, this Holmes child seemed normal. Normal intelligence level, normal human emotions, just normal._

"Nice to meet you, John. If you get the chance, can you tell Sherlock that Jimmy is here and says it's important?"

"Yeah sure. See you around then, Sherrinford."

"Yeah you too." And with that he walked away. I decided to snap Sherlock out of her coma. I began waving a hand in front of her face while yelling, "Sherlock? SHERLOCK?? Alright I'm done being nice." And I threw a pillow at her face. She fell out of her chair and finally returned to the land of the living.

"What was that for?!" She stood and yelled. I smiled and delivered Sherrinford's message. "Oh okay, I'll be right back then. I have to deal with this in privet." She walked out of the room and I heard her feet sprint down the stairs.

I went off to the toilet while I waited for Sherlock to get back. I had been gone a mere 5 minutes when I walked back into Sherlock's room. What I saw when I walked in was terrifying and disturbing. Sherlock was pinned against the wall and Jim Moriarty had his face firmly pressed against hers. It was the most intense snog session I have ever seen. Before I could close my mouth, I yelled,

"WHAT THE HELL?!?" Sherlock and Moriarty parted. Sherlock looked terrified and embarrassed while Jim looked satisfied and arrogant. "Explain. NOW." I said.

"It's just an experiment, John! I swear!!" Sherlock pleaded. Jim interrupted her saying,

"Oh we were experimenting alright." With a sly face. He turned from my gaze back to Sherlock's and kissed her on the lips quickly once again. "See you soon, Sherlock." He then walked off, bumping me in the process.

"Sherlock are you okay? You look ill."

"Can we still be friends? Even thought was kissing him?" Sherlock seemed desperate.

"Yes of course. I would never hate you for having a boyfriend."

"Thanks for being so accepting, John. Don't tell anyone about Jim and I though. He isn't ready to let anyone know."

"Of course not. Your secret is safe with me." Sherlock replied with kind eyes for the first time.

"Thank you, John." And then she KISSED ME ON THE CHEEK!! Yes I was feeling broken about Jim getting to do that to her, but her kiss seemed to make it all okay again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Leave kudos or comments or whatever you want. Helps keep me up to writing. Thanks for reading :3
> 
> ~ CharlieWhatsHisFace


	6. The Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late. Writers block and all. So you all know, I will be updating once a week now, because of personal reasons. BUT THANK YOU FOR READING!!!

**_Sherlock's POV_ **

 

I am so happy that John doesn't care about Jim and I being together. Even if Jim and I aren't really together. It's all just experimenting. I'm not even gay. To be truthful, I do not know what my sexual orientation is. I'm only 11 after all. I don't know why, but I am drawn to John. It weirds me out especially because he is so normal. So ordinary. _I hate having all of these unknowns. I need answers._

"Sherlock, you're doing it again!" I snapped my head to face John. I'm sitting at my desk thinking, and he is standing in front of me with a pillow ready to be thrown in my direction.

"Sorry" I reply, "I was thinking. What is it you needed to tell me?" He looked to me with a questioning glare before rolling his eyes in defeat and delivering a message from my mum.

"Your mum wants to know if you're eating tonight. She said she is making mashed potatoes, meatballs, and corn." _He was obviously hungry._

"Yes I will eat. Let's go down now, yes?"

"Sure." He paused, clearly debating if he should ask me something. It surprised me when he ended up asking, despite his discomfort. "Do you eat? Like, you're freaky skinny, and the way your mum asked if you were eating, I don't think you eat as often as you should." I smirked, but he continued, "I'm serious! If you're anorexic, then you need to get help."

"I'm not anorexic, John. I don't eat often because digestion slows me down." He was confused, but accepted it and moved on.

Supper was going quite well at first. I had a small plate of potatoes and John had a little bit of everything. Then people started speaking. My mum to be specific.

"So John, will you be staying the night?"

"Yes, if that's alright with you." He replied calmly. Just wait, it gets bad right here.

"No kissing my baby. Sherlock is very important to me and I don't want any shenanigans going on up there." John and I simultaneously choked on our food. I whined,

"Oh my gosh, **Mum** stop!" And John then said,

"Wait, are Sherlock and I sleeping in the same room then?" My mum was confused and informed him.

"Why of course you are! That's what you do at slumber parties, isn't it? Stay up all night and talk about boys together?" We choked again. John was offended.

"I'm not gay!" He yelled. I interjected,

"Neither am I!" John was confused as to why I said this, and it took me a moment to put the pieces together. I tuned out the rest of the meal and climbed into my mind to think. _John was disgusted with being called gay, but didn't react when he saw me kissing another boy. That and he is oddly comfortable having a crush (yes, I know he has a crush) on me. Let's see, what else. He thought we would sleep in separate rooms, which is strange, and he ---OH MY GOSH OF COURSE!! John thinks I'm a lady. Well, I'm not exactly manly, so I can see why he would make that deduction. Hmmm. I can have some fun with this._ I smirk like the devil and return to Earth. The table was cleared and John was looking to me like he was waiting for me to do something. I finally realised he wanted me to go with him to my room. _Let the "make John aware he likes boys" plan begin._

 

 

**_John's POV_ **

 

I was staring at Sherlock and calling her name for a good 3 minutes before her mum, who was clearing the table, finally said something.

"Geniuses can be like that sometimes, John. It has nothing to do with you."

"I never said it had anything to do with me." She smiled bashfully and said,

"Of course. My mistake." There was a short pause before I said something that has been bothering me.

"So I keep hearing people call Sherlock a genius. I don't see it. I see a very clever person, but not a genius." She merely sighed and replied,

"You must not have known each other very long then." I shrugged and looked back to Sherlock, attempting to call out her name one last time. She smirked a dark smirk this time round. _It looks like Moriarty is possessing her. That's scary as hell._ She stopped looking like Satan and looked to me. Shortly after, she stood gracefully and we went up to her room.

When we reached the desired destination, Sherlock sat on her bed and patted the open spot next to her. When I sat down, she moved closer to me. So close that our thighs were touching, nearly overlapping. Then she pulled out her mobile and pulled up a few photographs of teens in our grade. She was talking about possible suspects for our investigation about Molly Hooper's notes. After about 5 people, she looked at me, her eyes delving so deep into my soul that I nearly coughed it up for her. Our noses were a few centimetres apart and the angst in the air was heavier than the weight of 12 Earths. We were both leaning in. _Oh gosh this is really going to happen. My first kiss. Oh wow. Oh gosh. Oh goodness. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?_

"John? I asked you who you thought did it." _She wasn't going to kiss me? Oh..._ Trying my best to hide the hurt from my voice, I answered her question.

"Well, I think that Sally girl did it. She isn't very clever, and she seems like the stealing type."

"That's who I thought of as well. We can work out how to get the notes back tomorrow. For now, let's have fun." She jumped up to her feet and clapped her hands together, pacing the room excitedly.

"Okay. What should we do?" I asked. She replied casually,

"Do you want to play video games?"

"Sure! You know, I've never met a girl that likes video games before."

"Well today is your lucky day."

After about an hour and a half of playing Portal 1 and 2, we stopped gaming. I needed to figure out where I was sleeping, what I was going to sleep in, and what I was going to wear to school tomorrow.

"Hey Sherlock, do you have a spare mattress for me to sleep on? If not, the floor is fine, but I need some sheets." Her answer shocked me.

"You can just sleep in my bed. There is plenty of room for the two of us. I also have a pair of pyjamas you can borrow if you'd like. They are black bottoms with a grey tee-shirt." She paused, scanned my form, and continued. "You can also use some clothing of mine for school tomorrow. I know it's been bugging you on how to ask me."

"I don't even want to know how you knew that. But that all sounds fine. Yes, quite good." I awkwardly paused. "Could you go get the pyjamas now please? I'm kind of tired after today..." _She knows you're lying. She knows you just want to cuddle with her._

"Yes of course. Be right back." She slipped out of the room and came ack before I could even form a train of thought.

"That was fast."

"I have them on hand just in case. You know how it goes." I don't know what she's talking about, but I don't care. I pop out to the loo to get changed. When I came back, Sherlock already changed into a white tee-shirt and baggy grey checkered bottoms. We crawled into bed together, my head on one end, and hers on the other. _This is going to be the most awkward night sleep I have ever had...or maybe the best._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? LET ME KNOW!! I love you all!!
> 
> ~ CharlesFergalPanner

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Please share them. I can take negative and positive criticisms. Next chapter to be uploaded soon, by the way. :)
> 
> -CharlieWhatsHisFace


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